Zeb glared at Hawley. “I told you, I am not in this competition.”
“It is not a competition, Cousin Zeb.” Tears trembled in Jessamine’s voice. “I am not a prize.”
“Yes, you are,” Zeb said. “You have been made one and you oughtn’t be. Wynn, you must see that this marriage plan is a terrible idea. If you care for Jessamine’s well-being, settle a sum on her—give her the lot, even—but let her marry as she pleases. And I have to say,” he felt obliged to add, “the way you just spoke is not right. Elise is still a guest in your house.”
“Hypocrite,” Elise said with concentrated venom.
“Quite,” Hawley put in. “The Little Lord Fauntleroy posture doesn’t suit you.”
“Shut up,” Zeb told him. “All of you can shut up, actually: I’m fed to the back teeth with the lot of you. You can go to the devil, Hawley, and take Bram with you. And Wynn, I will not be proposing to Jessamine because, with the greatest possible respect, I don’t want to marry her, any more than, if she met any other men at all, she would want to marry me. That’s the end of thematter, and I will take my leave tomorrow.”
Zeb was quite pleased with that speech, feeling he’d been frank, strong, and honest. He was therefore rather disappointed that the immediate effect of his words was to make Jessamine burst into tears.
“I told you,” she sobbed to Wynn, big brown eyes overflowing. “I told you he does not care for me. Oh, why did you ask?”
She half rose from the table as she spoke. Wynn glared at him, indicating with a hand that he should go to her side. Zeb stayed firmly where he was.
“This is a shocking display,” Dash announced, in tones so strong it got even Jessamine’s tearful attention. “One man who cannot control his wife, one who does not deserve a wife, and one who, when offered the sweetest young lady as a wife, spurns her like a clod. I had not intended to speak—I am well aware my age is a disadvantage—but I cannot see Jessamine treated in this way. She should have a husband who will worship her as the treasure she is, not consider her a mere inconvenience in his path to a fortune.” He extended his hand. “Jessamine, if you will let an old soldier express his heart, I would like a private moment’s speech with you.”
Jessamine looked around wildly. “Yes—no—I don’t know—don’t ask me! Oh, don’t ask me!”
She was off on that, sprinting from the room at her usual breakneck pace. Dash moved to go after her, but Wynn said, “Wait. No, Dash, old friend, stop. Give her time to reflect. I think all of us need that. You can finish your meals without me;I shall go to my room. Assist me, Grey.” He stood as he spoke.
“So shall I,” Elise said coldly. “Since I find myself insulted by all and sundry, and my husband is incapable of offering me protection. Andyouare a pair of vipers,” she told Zeb and Hawley. “The girl would be better dead than wed to either of you.”
She got up on that and swept out, past Wynn, who was leaning on Gideon’s arm.
“Well,” Hawley said.
Bram had been staring at his plate. Now he looked up at Zeb with real hatred. “You cur. You backstabbing swine.”
Zeb perhaps should have assured him that he had never intended the construction Wynn had put on a literary allusion. What he said was, “It takes one to know one, you stinking hypocrite.”
Bram pushed back his chair and walked out. Dash said, “I also find the company uncongenial tonight. Wynn, old friend, let me take your other arm.”
They departed, leaving Zeb with Hawley, who took a leisurely mouthful of wine. “Goodness, Zebby, you do have hidden depths. I dare say the Brams deserved that. But you would be ill-advised to try those tactics with me.”
“Oh my God, just tell Wynn,” Zeb said. “Get up, march into his room, give him the big speech that I’m sure you’ve composed in your head, and have done. I don’t care any more.”
He dolloped beef stew on his plate, grabbed it, and joined the exodus, leaving his cousin alone.
Ten
Zeb ate his plate of dry potatoes and chewy beef in his room because he might be seething with fury, including at himself, but he was also hungry. He’d bet money that Bram had ordered sandwiches. Assuming Wynn’s dour serving staff even did sandwiches. They didn’t serve afternoon tea or any such, and Zeb hadn’t dared to make requests.
Bram had probably been eating angry sandwiches and fuming at Zeb’s underhanded tactics all evening, and the worst thing, the stupidest thing, was that although he hadn’t done it, and Bram would have deserved it if hehaddone it, he still felt awful.
He tensed as he heard feet coming along the corridor, not wanting another conversation that would make him feel worse. It came to something when you found yourself hoping that the footsteps you heard were ghosts.
There was a knock at the door. Zeb considered pretending he was asleep, but there was a second knock. He cursed internally,answered the door, and saw Gideon.
“Oh,” he said. “Hello.”
“May I come in?”
“Er, yes. If you like.” Zeb stepped back. Gideon came in and closed the door behind him. “Is Wynn all right?”
“Perfectly. Are you?”
